Moorcock, Michael - Jerry Cornelius 07

by The Adventures Of Una Perrson (and Catherinr Cornelius) (v1. 0)

  'Sorry. The wife's off.' He continued to write. He seemed deliberately rude. Ahmed controlled his temper. 'It wouldn't take a moment, surely to make a cup of tea? That's what you sell, don't you?'

  ‘The wife's off.'

  Ahmed's voice became a falsetto. ‘If you were a gentleman, sir, you would . . . '

  'Well, I ain't.' The man sounded as if he was glad of it.

  ‘Oh, come on,' whispered Catherine. This was unbearable. 'Let's try somewhere else.' She couldn't see a lavatory and could not, now, ask.

  'So you won't serve us,' said Ahmed grimly.

  'Nothing to serve you with,' the man told him. He indicated the 'Closed' notice on the door. 'The wife's got the key. I couldn't get in if I wanted to.'

  'You're not a very good representative of your country,' said Ahmed contentiously.

  'Never said I was.' The man yawned, frowning at Catherine as if to ask her what she was doing with this black man, anyway. He got up from the bench and put his note-book in his back pocket. He began to walk around the building.

  'I should punch his nose for him,' said Ahmed. She was tugging at his arm.

  'Let's go, Ahmed.'

  'And you know what you'd get if you tried.' The man calmly watched them return to the punt. 'Don't you?'

  'I'll never come here again!' Ahmed helped Catherine embark and untied the line.

  'Just as well,' the man called happily. 'Good riddance.'

  'You know why he was so rude, don't you?' Ahmed's voice was still shrill a few minutes later as they continued downriver. 'He didn't like a white girl and an Asian together. You know that?'

  'Oh, he's probably rude to everybody.'

  'No. You learn to recognize it.' He scowled again.

  At least, thought Catherine with relief, he was no longer furious with her, or, if he was, he was turning all his anger against the man at the tea shop. 'My father could buy and sell the whole of Oxford.' Ahmed glared at the trees and the fields. 'If he knew who I was, he wouldn't have dared to be so insolent.'

  There's lots of people in England just like that,' she said. 'And they're all running tea shops. They want your money but they hate serving you. They resent you.'

  'How I loathe this country sometimes.' -1

  'I know what you mean.' She was glad that she was able to support him. 'English people can be so bloody bogus.'

  'A nation of damned hypocrites.' He echoed her swearing.

  'Absolutely.'

  'What a rotten thing to happen, though. I wanted to give you the loveliest day you've ever had.' He sighed.

  'Don't think about it. The river's wonderful. I'm enjoying myself.'

  'You don't feel ill any more?' Concern.

  She was desperate enough, at this point, to hurl herself willy-nilly into the water. 'Well, I would like to stop, actually. When we get the chance.' She was sure she heard him groan. She looked about her. On the other side of the river was a spinney. If she could somehow get a moment to herself, she might be able to fix it. 'What a pretty wood. Perhaps we could lie in the shade for a while. Would you mind?'

  He seemed pleased. 'Not at all.' With a couple of brisk shoves he got the punt across, took hold of an overhanging branch and drew them in to the bank. 'Can you get out by yourself?'

  'Oh, easily.' She clambered ashore. The smell of the leaves and the earth was delicious. The wood was dark and thick. She had her opportunity. 'This is lovely.' Pretending to be entranced, she ran into the trees. 'Wait there for me, Ahmed. Wait on the bank. I shan't be long.'

  He was laughing. 'Can't I come?'

  'No.'

  Carefully, lifting her dress, she stepped over the roots and fallen branches until she reached a large oak whose trunk was big enough to hide her. As quickly as she could she took the apparatus from her bag, unwrapped it, pulled up her skirt, pulled her pants to her knees and began adjusting the napkin, fumbling with and almost dropping the pins.

  'Catherine!' He was coming through the wood.

  'Just a minute!'

  He laughed. 'What a mysterious young dryad you are!'

  Her pants snagged and in her haste to get them up she almost broke the elastic, but at last it was done and she was able to smooth her dress down, snap her handbag shut with an enormous sigh of relief, and cry: 'Come and find me, Ahmed!'

  He must have been close; he reached her almost at once. 'You look radiant,' he said. He was puzzled. 'A moment ago you were so pale. Perhaps the motion of the water doesn't agree with you.'

  'Maybe. I've always been a bit prone to sea-sickness. That's why I can't bear the idea of going abroad.' She smiled and held out her

  Bewildered, he approached. 'You are as whimsical as the English climate.' He embraced her, kissing her gently on the lips. 'You're so beautiful. I think I love you, Catherine.' :'

  Her laughter was forced. 'This is a bit sudden!'

  'No more sudden than your change of mood.' He released her. He was almost wistful.

  She kissed him back. 'Ahmed, I promise I won't be difficult from now on.'

  He nodded slowly. 'You must have heard many people proclaim their love for you.'

  'Not very many.' She stroked his dark head. 'Let's sit down for a minute. Have you got a gasper?'

  From the inside pocket of his blazer he took a gold case, from his trousers he took an automatic lighter, displaying them. 'You'll get your dress dirty,' he said. 'Wait. I'll fetch the cushion things from the boat.' He had become cheerful and eager again. She was glad her risk had been worthwhile.

  He came running back from the punt with the corduroy cushions in his arms. He spread them under the tree. 'That's thoughtful of you, Ahmed.' She seated herself demurely. He sat down beside her, leaning on his elbow, one leg crooked, offering her the open case. She selected a Turkish cigarette, thought better of it, but it was too late: he had snapped the case shut, replacing it in his pocket. He clicked the lighter and she accepted the flame. Immediately she inhaled she felt sick. She coughed. 'Oh, it's a bit strong.'

  'You'd rather have a Virginia?'

  'I think so. It's silly of me.'

  'Not at all. I prefer Virginia myself.' Again he proffered the open case.

  She let him light the next one as he had lit the first but the smell of the Turkish tobacco was still in her throat. She held the cigarette in the fingers of her left hand, unsmoked, taking a deep breath of the sweet air. 'Ah, alone at last!'

  'Yes.' He picked a twig from her hair. 'I've been rushing you about rather, haven't I? You must think me an awful boor.'

  'Don't be silly. I'm sorry that I spoiled it all. I really feel a hundred times better now.'

  'It wasn't anything to do with me?'

  'Of course not! I've been looking forward to coming ever since you asked.'

  'You are a most beautiful girl!'

  She was cheerful. 'And you're a most handsome man.'

  I'm serious, Catherine.' His voice was low. His black eyes studied her face. He stroked her arm. 'I love you.'

  'You don't know me. I'm a terrible person.'

  ‘I don't care if you have other boyfriends.'

  That's not actually what I meant.' She was tender. 'As it happens, there isn't anyone else.'

  'Would you be mine? I mean, just mine?'

  'I'm not really a flirt, Ahmed. If it works out, there won't be anyone else, honestly.' She wondered why she was giving him such assurances. It was not like her. 'But we don't know one another very well, do we? Look at the trouble I've caused you so far.'

  'That wasn't your fault.'

  'It might have been.'

  'No!' He was emphatic.

  'Well, it might have been . . .'

  Again, without even attempting to draw her to him, he lunged awkwardly, clumsily kissing her on the cheek. It had not occurred to her before that he might not be very experienced. Now she put her arms round him and kissed him firmly on the lips. He moaned. She released him, conscious of the cigarette in her left hand. She took a puff.

  His eyes were anxiou
s. 'I'm going too fast for you . . . '

  'Why don't we just lie here and relax for a moment.'

  He was upset again. 'All right.' Resting his back against the tree he lit a cigarette for himself. There were always more cigarettes than embraces in these situations, Catherine thought with some amusement. She was beginning to feel hungry.

  'I fell in love with you the moment I saw you come into that awful room,' he was saying. 'I wrote some poetry.'

  'Have you got it with you?'

  'No. It's at the house. I was afraid of losing it.'

  'Will you let me read it later?'

  'Oh, I want you to.' He turned towards her.

  'I'm looking forward to it.' She did her best to put as much warmth as possible into her voice. Actually, the reaction had just come and she would have been glad now to be lying in the relative comfort of the punt, able to enjoy the day. 'What year are you in, then, at your college?'

  'Third starts after the vac'

  'And what do you want to be, when you've finished?'

  'Well, I'm reading English, you know. I had some thought of becoming a writer, but I'm not sure. My father is keen to take me into the business.'

  'But you'd rather write?'

  'Oh, I could probably do both. There are public responsibilities, you see, being my father's eldest son, as well as private ones. A man is expected to live and behave in a certain way, in my own country.'

  'Quite.' She had only a vague idea of his meaning but, as usual, she found herself attracted to the idea of a man with slightly mysterious responsibilities. They were probably religious duties, she thought romantically. She extinguished her cigarette in the moss. 'Well, perhaps we'd better be moving along, eh?'

  'Oh, no. It's lovely here.' He also put out his cigarette, stroking her hair again. She decided to make the best of it and reached to take him by the back of the neck, gathering him in. His body was firm against hers. She could feel his stiffening penis on her thigh. He was half on top of her.

  'Oh, Catherine!' One of his hands was trapped behind her. The other began to squeeze her left breast which, as usual, had become sore with the advent of her period. She ignored the pain, tried to get some pleasure from the sensation, kissed him as passionately as she could. His hand stopped squeezing her breast and moved inexpertly down to her groin. Careful not to startle him, she moved the hand back to her breast.

  'Catherine, please . . .'

  'Not here, Ahmed.'

  'At my house? We could go there now.' His voice was muffled.

  'Later. Honestly. I'll explain.'

  He continued to slide his penis against her thigh. She moved her own body, hoping to make him come, hoping that that, at least, would satisfy him for the time being. His grip was painful on her swollen nipple. She tried to goad him to a faster rhythm. 'Oh, darling,' she murmured. 'Oh, Ahmed.'

  'C-c . . .'

  His grip tightened. He jerked. She could hear his teeth scraping. He hissed. She kissed him.

  His eyes were glazed as he looked down at her. He seemed about to ask a question. She hoped that she seemed receptive. 'Would you like another cigarette?' he asked.

  'Yes, please.'

  He fumbled his case and lighter from his pockets, put two Virginia cigarettes between his lips and lit them, handing her one.

  'Thanks.' -

  He was staring through the trees at the river. Suddenly he got to his feet. 'Oh, good God, I'm sorry.'

  She was surprised. 'Sorry?'

  'You must be disgusted with me.'

  'Don't be silly. I'm only sorry I couldn't. . .'

  'Please! It's me! It's me!'

  'Ahmed . . .'

  'I love you, Catherine. Really.'

  She struggled up, brushing leaves and bracken from her frock. 'Look, this is stupid. I wanted you to—well, you know . . . '

  With an expression of agony he began to pick up the cushions. He seemed about to cry.

  'Ahmed, dear.' She approached him. He avoided her, stumbling towards the river. He dropped a cushion. He swore and picked it up again. 'I've made a fool of myself. You can't have any respect for me, Catherine. I behaved like a complete outsider.'

  She began to run after him. He reached the punt and flung the cushions into it. He would not look at her. 'Ahmed. It's all right. I'm trying to explain!'

  'Why should you have to? I thought you wanted ... I couldn't . . . '

  'Ahmed. Let's forget about it.' She sat down heavily. The punt rocked and he almost overbalanced into the water. 'We'll have some lunch. You'll feel better, then.'

  'If you still want to spend the day with me . . .'

  'Of course I do.'

  He seemed more at ease, but he handled the pole with far less assurance than previously, turning the boat against the current.

  'We'll lunch at The Mitre,' he said.

  By the time they were eating she had lost her appetite and was regretting that she had ordered such heavy food. She left most of her whitebait and spent the main course trying to make her game pie as small as possible. She drank nearly a bottle of wine and it improved her spirits, though she began to feel sick. When he asked her whether she had to go home that day she said that she had to be home fairly early because her mother was alone and unwell. He received the news with a kind of sinister resignation which made her feel that she should have remained and let him find out about her period for himself. There was every chance, of course, that he wouldn't know, even when confronted with the bulky evidence. He I was making her feel inexplicably guilty and at the same time kept behaving as if his few spasms in the wood had filled him with an ineradicable sense of shame. She was reconciled. It was not the first time she had expected to be swept off her feet by a remorseless despot only to find herself saddled with a confused, miserable and self-punishing tyro. Petulantly, she recognised the reemergence of her maternal instincts as she did her best to cheer him up with promises of pleasure to come.

  There was a tense and depressing walk through the almost deserted streets of Oxford until they passed through an enormous, ancient arch and entered the quadrangle of his college. He had his hands in his pockets and was taking an interest in the gravel. ‘You can be very cruel,' he was saying. He had said similar familiar things during lunch. 'Don't you realize what you're doing to me? I'm only human. I hate ambiguity, you know. Why can't women be more direct?'

  'I am being direct,' she said, but she had no taste for the ritual. If I was more direct, Ahmed, I'd shock you.'

  Is it because of my race, the fact that I'm an Asian? Is it because I'm different?'

  She laughed. 'Different?'

  'You ought to admit it, you know. To yourself, if not to me.' They were climbing some steps. This is the oldest part of the building.'

  She pushed her lower lip out, to show interest. She found one old stone building much like another and she had made the college trek before, in Cambridge. There didn't seem a lot to choose between the two establishments. I'd rather go out with an Asian boy any day,' she said. She felt ridiculous. His accusations were making her say silly defensive things.

  'Oh, you're too kind!'

  She had anticipated that response. 'I find you sexually attractive, Ahmed.'

  He looked nervously up and down the passage. They walked on.

  'You see,' she said as they struck some cloisters, 'I've shocked you. You'll think me forward now.'

  'No. I think girls should speak their minds. It makes things easier for everyone. But there's such a thing as time and place, isn't there?'

  'I see.' She controlled her impulse to tickle him or to kick his shins or to grab his balls from behind. 'I'm having a period. That's why I've been a bit strange.'

  'I've heard that one before,' he said bitterly.

  'It has been a bit abused,' she admitted, 'as a face-saver. Well, I've said it. You'll have to take it for what it's worth.' She knew that she must still be drunk. Ahmed certainly was.

  He stopped and inspected his watch. Try and pull yourself together befo
re my father gets here. He's rather old-fashioned, you know.'

  She tugged at his arm. 'Ahmed. Don't be boorish.'

  'I am what I am.'

  Her laughter was unforced. 'Ahmed! Let's calm down.'

  'I am perfectly calm.'

  She was sure that her hair and her dress needed attention and thought of asking him where she could go to prepare herself for meeting his father, but then she decided that she did not care.

  'We'd better go this way,' said Ahmed. He guided her through another portico. This part was constructed in Henry the Eighth's reign, I believe.'

  'Ho, ho,' she said. 'What for?' She winked at him. In this sort of situation she found that she could easily fall back into an imitation of her mother. She felt comfortable in the role. 'Did he keep all eight of 'em here?'

  'He had six wives,' said Ahmed, 'at different times in his life.'

  'Yes,' said Catherine. 'I forgot.'

  They walked back through the quadrangle. As they reached the pavement of the street a red and yellow Rolls Royce pulled up at the kerb. Ahmed smiled, forgetting all conflicts. 'It's the dad!' He became excited. 'He's a bit early. Oh, that's terrific!' He waved at the car. A shadow waved back. With his hand on her elbow, Ahmed drew her towards the limousine, opening the door. 'Hello, father! This is Catherine Cornelius, the girl I mentioned.'

  His father was heavier than Ahmed. He had jowls, a thick-lipped, self-indulgent mouth, a prominent nose, an intelligent eye. He was wearing a white European suit and a Panama hat. There were a great many rings on his chubby fingers. Catherine fell for him immediately.

  'I'm very pleased to meet you,' she said.

  'How do you do, my dear.' He addressed his son. 'Shall we use the car to go somewhere?'

  'Good idea,' said Ahmed. 'Hop in, Catherine.' She hopped, sitting beside the older man while Ahmed used one of the collapsible seats opposite.

  'What a beautiful young woman you are,' said Ahmed's father. *Ahmed is very lucky.'

  'Thank you,' said Catherine.

  Ahmed suggested that the car drive out of Oxford so that they could have tea beside the river. He winked at Catherine, but she did not catch the significance. Winding down the glass panel, he instructed the chauffeur where to go.

  Ahmed's father, Catherine began to realize, was embarrassed by her presence. She had the impression that he had come to Oxford for a specific reason and wished to be away as soon as possible. The car drew up outside a fenced area. A number of people were seated in the open, enjoying their tea at tables set on a lawn which ran down to the river. Catherine didn't recognize the place at first. It was only when she saw a man, now in a white coat, serving a family near the river that she understood Ahmed's wink. He had deliberately returned to the scene of their morning encounter. Ahmed instructed the driver to take the car right up to the gate, then he wound down the side window and called to the white-coated man as he walked toward the building, 'Hi! I say, have you a table free?'